Of Crowns And Crockery
by Rivergift
Summary: A rambling tale of two Queens before the Age was Golden. The story of rebuilding a broken country, and finding majesty in the simplest of places.
1. Lucy's King

_The Early Days_

Lucy was at a ball, and she couldn't dance.

It was a surprising problem, considering that she didn't normally mind looking a little silly or making a fool of herself, though Susan was infinitely more graceful. But these were Narnians and they were_Animals_ and she wasn't quite sure how she was going to even start because they were all in a natural position, it seemed, that shifted and changed as creatures came and went but ultimately kept the same formation. And she was a - a Queen, she supposed, were Queens even allowed to dance?

"Dear heart, why do you not dance?"

"Oh, Aslan!" Her face lit with delight and she spun immediately, beaming at the sight of the great Lion. "I would, but... it is all right, isn't it?" She peered anxiously up at him. "It's not going against some ancient rule that says I shouldn't? And well, most of them have four legs!" She blushed at this, realising how odd it sounded, but a soft chuckle interrupted her thoughts.

"And are not humans Animals, too, of a kind? Is not the Queen one with her people?"

"Oh... Of course!" Her eyes widened slightly. "I never thought of it that way."

"Now, on your feet, Queen Lucy. Dance!"

And dance she did, throwing herself bodily into the whirling mass at the centre of the ballroom. The chandeliers were cracked and the floor was still rather dusty and a stray rag here and there was testament to the hurried work of the cleaners, but the Narnians looked at it all and laughed true and well. What did it matter, if their castle was old and their ballroom was in need of repairs? The Witch as dead! Aslan was back! They had Kings and Queens again!

Lucy smiled, their celebration charming in its oddness - and its sincerity. They were so willing, these people, to learn and accommodate and smile. The fauns and the rabbits had somehow found a way to dance together - it involved the fauns stepping back while the rabbits stepped to the side and then some very complicated arm movements - and the centaurs, upon being asked to dance, threw back their heads and laughed, then stepped right into it, their hooves tappping an intricate rhythm and keeping a beautiful pattern. Lucy, upon realising that each Animal had its own dance and she was currently the only human dancing, took it upon herself to make one.

Her siblings descended upon her just as she was finishing up, and - this was too good an opportunity to waste! - she grabbed Edmund's arm and pulled him forward.

"Ed! I've come up with a new dance, just for us! You will dance with me, won't you?" She gave him the most sad look she could manage while nearly bursting with contained laughter, and with a loud groan Edmund took her hand.

He regretted it soon after as he twirled round Lucy a minute later at the centre of the ring of dancers, looking completely mortified.

'Lucy!" He hissed as she executed a spin and then a jump, his arm going up and down and round his head to follow.

"Aren't you having fun?" She laughed back, delight genuine, but unable to keep the mischief from sneaking in.

"No!" He groaned again as he nearly tripped over his own feet, and leveled an extremely dark glare over Lucy's head, where their older sister and brother stood arm in arm, laughing openly at him. "I am never going to fall for that look again," he grumbled again, but she saw the relief and happiness in his eyes, and beamed back. He might be a traitor but that was past, as far as she was concerned, and he was her _brother._

The dance ended, though the music did not, with a resounding cheer from the other dancers, who welcomed her with eager arms as she gladly went to them, throwing a last wicked grin at Edmund as he ran off the dancing floor as if chased by savage beasts. She found she didn't know their dances, but to all of them she took with a shining face, for they touched something in her that she'd forgotten about for a long time.

It would be a long time again before she remembered just where she'd first loved like that.

But for the moment she put it aside and enjoyed the dancing, the fumbling as different Animals tried to learn dances strange to them, that were awkward on their forms. She'd never known before just how anatomically different Badgers and Otters were before, but, trying to keep back peals of laughter as she watched them attempt to dance, she learnt fast.

Her people were unique, she learnt too that night amidst the beat of tapping feet and the harmony of united voices. High and proud were the Centaurs, but they bowed to her with such quiet, calm deference in their manner. The Mice were lovely little things, proud and fiery too for all they were so small. The Badgers were stoic, steady creatures, down-to-earth and sensible even in their measured dances. The Hummingbirds were sweet creatures, many flying in intricate patterns for her pleasure, the fawns were flighty, eager, and completely charming, while the older Deer just sat back and laughed at their younglings. And the Fauns... they were all so friendly, like dear Mr. Tumnus, and- all the Animals danced to and fro and her mind named one and all and it was so bright, so colourful, and they were spinning and spinning -

"Shh, Lucy." A warm hand smoothed back a stray golden curl, and her sister's tender, amused voice soothed her. "It's past midnight - time to sleep!"

"Past midnight!" Lucy sat up in wonder, realising she was in her bed. "We can't have danced that long!"

"Oh, you did! The Animals are delighted - they would have kept you forever if Peter didn't step in!"

"Oh..." She rested her head back again, closing her eyes. "They're lovely, Su... all so friendly, and they'll dance with anyone... I do..."

A smile, and the breath of a kiss against her forehead, then Susan was gone in a swirl of colour.

She lay there for a few minutes, just breathing, and remembering those brilliant, joyful hours - just dancing. As her flushed cheeks cooled and her racing heart slowed the night deepened and the dances faded, replaced by four golden thrones and one golden Lion, and... Kings and Queens... but she was just a little girl. She frowned, and sat up, staring out the window at the stars.

A little girl.

She still liked dancing with all kinds of Animals, and twirling in the sunshine, and playing on the beach, and eating sugar though it was bad for her, and being kissed goodnight, though she was quite certain that Queens didn't do any of that. Well, maybe the dancing, but surely not the sugar!

She swallowed, suddeny feeling very lonely in the big bed with its silken pillow, but she pushed down the feeling resolutely. She could surely try to be the ruler the Narnians needed - she loved them already! - but how could she? Was the Lucy who'd crept into Peter's bed the night their father left, who'd tried to help Susan in the kitchen but ended up making a mess, who'd hidden and cried every day for a week over Edmund when he taunted her in school, one and the same with the one who'd stood in the throne room and received her crown and the blessing of a Lion? And if they were, how could it be...?

She lay there only a few more minutes, before slipping out of the room, a small shadow moving quickly across the corridor, to the large glass door that barred the balcony from her.

The night welcomed her like a child of its own, and an irresistable smile stretched across her lips. Even the night, here, was so sweet on her face and her arms as she lifted them and twirled, a dance for the stars in their slow-burning glory far above, and not for the first time she wondered if there was anything in Narnia that was not beautiful.

Not _good,_ of course, there were bad things everywhere. But everything was so _beautiful_ here, even... even the Witch. Even her.

But she wouldn't think of that tonight, when the echoes of her subjects' - _her! _- laughter still lingered pleasantly in her ears. Her people. It was wonderful, all of it, and - oh, she'd never seen something so undeniably grand than this place. It was elegant and large and full of windows to let in the light, never shutting out the sun. It was, she secretly thought, rather romantic in places, with turrets and spires with elaborate designs, and a night that embraced her.

With an sigh Lucy finally slid down, resting her head against the slender railing that separated the balcony and the rest of Narnia. Behind her the good people still danced and sang in the great hall, revelling in the downfall of Winter and the promise of Spring. She did love their smiles so! They spoke of a great reawakening, like the trees that blossomed suddenly after so long in the frost, and she rejoiced in their joy for the coming of another age...

A hundred years of winter!

She swallowed as she remembered the few days of this unending winter she had tasted, and how bitter they were. How had these brave creatures lived for a hundred years of that... _coldness?_ There was winter in England- _Spare Oom - _but it had never been so very _cold _before. She shivered and drew her cloak tighter about her.

"Lu?"

She started, but smiled as her brother pushed aside the curtain and slipped down beside her. Without a word Peter wrapped an arm around her, and she laid her head down trustingly, for it had never before occurred to her not to. But all the same...

"Peter?"

The arm tightened.

"We're... we're _Kings and Queens."_ Suddenly wonder filled her. How had this happened? They were just four brothers and sisters who stumbled into a magical wood. Everything else had just felt like consequences, coincidences, events falling into place as if planned, and then they were walking towards those thrones with wide eyes and hammering hearts.

"We are." There was a hint of wonder in Peter's voice too, and she curled into him.

"But I'm a child."

"So am I, Lu."

Her eyes widened. She honestly hadn't thought about it quite in this way yet, for -

"Oh, Peter. But you're so much older."

Peter turned a warm smile on her. "Not that much, Lu. Or at least I don't think it is when there're hundred-year-old Dryads in there."

She giggled slightly at this, and brightened. "The Dryads dance wonderfully, Peter! They're _so_ clever, and graceful, and everyone stops to watch when they really dance. The rest of the time they just hold our hands and spin around, but when they dance their dances they're beautiful! I think I'll never look at a tree in the wind the same way ever again, and they have sweet voices too. Lower than ours, and - dryer somehow, like whispers, but different. Oh, I can't describe it! But it's _wonderful_, Peter."

Peter laughed outright. "Ed didn't think so."

"_Oh!_ He danced with one of them! Oh! Oh, dear!" She thought of Edmund's at best clumsy dancing and winced for the sake of the poor Dryad, who had surely had to endure getting stepped on or tripped multiple times. "Oh, how funny! How dreadful!"

"Dreadful indeed, for the Dryad!" Peter grinned. "She was very nice about it, but she practically ran off once Edmund bowed. Not that I can blame her."

"Oh, _dear_." But she couldn't help it, and dissolved into helpless giggles at the image of the graceful Dryads attempting to keep time to Edmund's reluctant, two-left-feet dancing.

"Very true," Peter replied, as he stared off into the night. "Lucy?"

"Ye-es?"

He looked down at her, and she was struck by the tenderness in his eyes, but the sorrow there, too. Her big brother suddenly looked terribly old, with his face in the moonlight casting strange shadows across his features... She pulled closer suddenly, unreasonably frightened. What had he seen on the fields of Beruna when he faced the witch alone?

"You do know that you're not too young to be a Queen?"

Her breath caught.

"Lucy..." He waited until she looked at him. And he smiled, so gently that she relaxed against him once more. "Lu, they love you. I can see it in their eyes. It doesn't matter, you know, how old we are or how strong we are. I think the important part of being a Queen is - to love your people, and to serve them. You do, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Well, then, my queen..." Peter pushed a stray curl out of her eyes. "I think you will do very well."

"Oh." There was silence for a while, as she took this in. Well, she thought, as lightness took her mood suddenly, maybe Narnia _could_ make do with a rather short Queen for a while. And she would learn, and she would grow... "Thank you, Peter," she whispered, "you're so - wise." Wistfully she looked up. "Is that what it means to grow up?"

"I - " Peter broke off, blinking. "I don't quite know, Lu. Maybe it is. I don't think I'm very wise either, but we'll learn, won't we?"

Lucy sat back, rocking on her heels, and studied her brother. Little she might be, but stupid she was not, and - there was something about her brother now that was changed, and she was startled to find that it was nobility. In the visage of her brother Peter she could find traces of the High King of Narnia as he would soon be, great and wise and kind. But that was Peter, she realised with quick wonder. That was her brother. Sudden pride rushed through her.

"We will," she whispered. After all, they were young, and they had a good, beautiful land and a Lion who loved them. She thought on it all and with a joyful laugh she tugged Peter to his feet.

"Let's dance!"


	2. Susan's Way

_The Early Days_

Susan leant down to kiss her sister, and softly she left the room, resting one hand on the doorknob as she shut the door. Lucy.

She'd been glorious in the ball, though Susan would not fluster her sister with that piece of information. Lucy had been - radiant, and everyone could feel it, see it, to some extent. Those hours had slipped by almost unconsciously, everyone drunk on the joy of new hope, and she'd stepped out to enjoy the peace and calm for a while. And when she went back in Lucy had been dancing with the Animals, freely, with utter abandon, unfettered by anything under the sun. Susan had seen then a light in her eyes which did not consume, but kindled fires in the hearts of all who saw her as she revelled in the shining hall.

She'd almost felt as if she saw her little sister for the first time, as if the Lucy Pevensie who loved candy though rations were short, who was scared of lightning and bombs, who sneaked under her covers quietly when she had nightmares was gone. This Lucy was resplendent, as she twirled amongst the Animals looking so much like one of them that Susan almost missed her... and yet she knew she never would have. Lucy shone, so happy was she, and Susan was startled to find silent tears coursing down her own cheeks in a mixture of joy and and indescribable misery.

Pressing a cold hand to flushed cheeks, she shook her head at herself, unhappy with her own irrational fear. They'd won the war, after all, hopeless as it had seemed in the grey hours after dawn after that cold, terrible night. She shuddered again at the memory of a shorn lion still below the Witch's knife, for in that moment she'd been so sure that they were lost, all of them, to that darkness...

But they hadn't been, though they had come so close!

She sighed and leant her head against the closed door tiredly. All this celebration was all very well, and she _had _enjoyed herself, but she was suddenly all too aware that with the dawn of the next day the joy would start to wear off as her country began to see what a monumental task rebuilding would be... _Her _people.

Oh, Aslan.

This was real. This was _real, _and tomorrow she was expected to take up a mantle too big for her and be a _Queen_ when she could hardly keep track of three trouble-prone siblings. She shuddered once more remembering Edmund as he was when first he returned - so very small, and she'd abruptly remembered all the times in England that he went off by himself, downtrodden and quiet and laden with a misery that she'd ignored, too wrapped up in her own problems to notice what was happening to her little brother. And Lucy, oh, Lucy! Lucy, so very brave when it came down to it, but so little, all the same.

And Peter - who had looked golden and noble and _kingly_ in the light of the throne room, but Susan could not shake the memory of that terrible moment when they arrived at the battlefield and saw them - her brother and the Witch, the accursed Witch, fighting so hard she could hardly see their weapons, and the awful, deep fear that had choked her -

He would have to do that, she thought with a despairing, hardly suppressed sob. He was a King, and he would fulfil this duty with every fibre of his being. So would Ed. So would little Lucy. But -

"Susan..."

She jumped, and looked up into the face of a Lion. With those great golden eyes he regarded her kindly, and without a word she held out her arms.

"My child, why do you weep?"

"I..." She trailed off. Why did she weep? Why, when the rest of the castle was dancing and singing?

"It is no sin to be sorrowful when others rejoice, little one."

She bowed her head, thankful and humbled. "I don't know, Aslan. I... I don't think I'm ready. This..." She waved a hand, somehow encompassing the entire world outside of the small corridor. "It's too big. I..." She bent her head again, struggling. The Lion waited. "I'm scared," she finally admitted, softly. "For them. For - Oh, Aslan, they're so _good, _and I know I'm being selfish wishing for their safety over Narnia's, but they'll give their life's _blood_ to protect this land now and I - I can't -"

Then she found herself somehow encircled by gentle paws, crying into gold fur. He held her for some time, until her sobs abated, leaving her slightly dazed but strangely peaceful. But when He spoke, she was shocked.

"Why not, Susan?"

"I'm not like them... I never have been. Peter and Lu, Aslan, they're so innately _good_ that I know they would fight for this land without a second thought, and I don't think it's ever occurred to either of them _not_ to be faithful, and brave. Oh, I know they struggle sometimes, and terribly, but they always try, and they've never thought once for _themselves. _And Edmund - oh, Aslan, Edmund - he's so changed. So intense, now, I know he thinks he owes Narnia something, and he'll give all he has to give to repay it, and I fear -"

She was openly sobbing now, brought back to that awful whiteness of Edmund's face and the blood, the blood of her little brother, staining the ground. And the look on Peter's face, the look of such deep, awful grief that she'd shuddered, and Lucy, innocent little Lucy, tainted forever by that sight...

"You cannot protect your siblings forever, Susan," Aslan murmured gently, as she leaned against him, drawing strength from his.

"I know, but I can't help but want to," she whispered, bowing her head.

"Why does that shame you so?"

She sat up in surprise. "You... you crowned me, Aslan. And gave me a duty to protect Narnia, didn't you? Wasn't it to be my first thought and mission? It's selfish to want to keep those I love with me, and safe, when they should be protecting our country... isn't it?"

"No, Susan," Warm breath ghosted across her face, ruffling her hair. "Feel no shame, for there is none, in wishing to keep your loved ones safe. You, my gentle lady, are not made for battle, but you must trust that your siblings are." He smiled down at her. "Look past the blood and the horror - What did you see in your brothers and sister, on that day on the battlefields?"

She shut her eyes, swallowing. What had she seen?

Thinking back to those awful moments - they had arrived, the silk of gold lion's fur beneath her, strong muscles rippling, His soft voice telling them to get off. Somehow they must have done so, though she cannot remember it, for then, then she had seen Peter and her heart had near burst from love and anger and a deep, soul-shaking fear, for her brave, foolish brother stood alone before the witch, this ice-queen with such evil in her eyes, and they had fought, an uncanny anger fueling Peter's movements - then she had wondered at it, for how could a schoolboy from England with a few scant weeks of training hold his own against the battleworn witch?

But somehow, too, some part of her mind has understood that Peter was not a boy then, but a king, defending his country. And perhaps even more than that, he was a brother, protecting his own. And that was it. That was the source of the dark, cold fury she saw burning in Peter's eyes, the relentless drive behind the swift sword-strokes.

_Edmund._

And afterward - The look on his face, the guilt and the fear and the sorrow when she'd spoken Edmund's name, and then the rush, the sheer, helpless, desperate run and then crashing to her knees at her youngest brother's side, staring blankly into his white face, suddenly unable to move, unable to speak, and all she could think of was _no no no. Not now, not him, not us, no..._

_"_Susan," a purr, and she pulled herself from the memory with an effort, staunching her tears resolutely. _Past the blood and the horror._

Peter, alone before that terrible figure, sword lifted, chin high. Eyes aflame with a strength beyond his years, a spirit whose love for his brother knew no bounds, one young boy grown up. Against the dreadful tableau of blood-soaked soil and stone animals and the screams of the dying her brother stood firm, and he fought. Edmund. The pain and the peace mingling in the dark eyes of her little brother, suddenly so old, quiet acceptance - _I am going to die - _no regret - _I am glad you're safe. _Little brother. Brave warrior. And Lucy... A slow, heartbreaking trek across the battlefield, kneeling at the side of the dying, facing the blood and the death and the suffering...

"Courage," she admitted finally, softly. "Courage so great I was ashamed of my fear. Edmund, as he battled the pain, and Peter, as he battled the witch, and Lucy, going so patiently, so bravely through all the wounded to save them... Courage."

"And before your fear for them overwhelmed you, dear one, what did you feel?"

There was silence as she contemplated this, and a small smile worked its way onto her face. "Pride."

She felt his smile more than saw it. "Yes. But do not be ashamed that your place is not on the frontlines, for there are different ways to be brave. Perhaps, my Queen Susan, your siblings will watch over Narnia, and you..." He purred softly, and her heart brimmed with sudden happiness. "You, dear child, will watch over them."

She gasped softly, the words completing something deep in her crying out for help, something she'd not even realised was lacking, and finally relaxed, laying her head down the crossed paws. "And it wouldn't be going against you, dear Aslan?"

"No, Queen Susan," and she heard pride in his voice, "It would not."

And then she knew Narnia could be home.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

_Apologies for the lack of an introduction in the last chapter - I was harried and rather careless! Many thanks to all readers. Narnia is to me and, I'm sure, many people, a beloved childhood book - I lived and breathed their story, and I do believe Aslan's death was the very first time I cried while reading a book! I have always felt, almost intuitively, that Narnia was such a very pure place, innocent, even, before of course the Christian ideals come in. But now, older, I begin to see that nothing is that perfect. I still love Narnia, and I still knock on the backs of wardrobes every so often, but I hope I will be able to explore the harder, more mundane bits of being a Narnian queen._

_The whole story will be done in this manner, chapters alternating focus on each sister._

_This story was born out of wonder over the lack of fics on the sisters; the fandom is overflowing with pieces examining, highlighting and celebrating the bond between Peter and Edmund, but I could hardly find any on Lucy and Susan. This will, hopefully, go a little towards changing that!_

_Reviews are always welcome, of course!_


	3. Lucy's Dream

_The Early Days_

When Lucy awoke, it was to the sun glaring her in the face. Moaning, she turned her face into the pillow, wishing Narnia had heard of curtains.

"Queen... Queen Lucy?"

An anxious voice roused her, and with an effort she sat up, looking around in confusion.

"Down here, my queen!"

She looked down and blinked. "Oh - Hello! I'm so sorry I didn't know you were there! Have you come to bring me to breakfast? Oh dear, how late is it?"

"It is ten o'clock in the morning, ma'am, and your royal brother has requested your presence." The Squirrel bowed deeply, appearing to take this as seriously as a royal edict. Lucy frowned a little, wondering whether Peter, or Edmund, was even aware that their casual request was now being conveyed by an extremely serious-looking creature which was in fact the sweetest thing she'd seen in a long while. Struggling to keep from laughing out loud, she nodded quickly.

"I shall be up in a moment, if you would wait. Do you know where I might find clothes? And I'm so glad to meet you! What is your name?"

The Squirrel looked rather surprised - or at least, as surprised as a Squirrel can look - and beamed. "I am called Mayleaf, your majesty. I have been assigned to be a messenger for the time being, while everything is being sorted. I believe you will find clothes befitting a Queen in the cupboard over there."

Lucy smiled, charmed by the decorum of the little creature. 'Thank you so much! Please call me -" She broke off. While not exactly sure what the rules about being Queen were, perhaps she shouldn't... But it was terribly awkward to go around being called your majesty by creatures she wanted to befriend! "Please call me Lucy, Mayleaf, at least while we are alone."

Mayleaf looked positively shocked, but then she seemed to see something in Lucy's eyes that pleased her, and her sombre face softened. "I would like that, Queen - Lucy."

"What is happening downstairs?" She called as she opened the cupboard, staring in awe at the row of beautiful dresses. A sea of crinkling lace, shimmering satin and smooth silk stared her in the face as she gazed, enchanted, at them.

"Queen Lucy?"

"Lucy," she murmured absently. She turned to Mayleaf, who was still hovering with a perpetual worried look on her face. "Are these... for me?"

"Why, of course, Qu- Lucy, Lucy. Who else would they be for?"

"I don't know, I just... _Oh."_ She looked at them for a moment more, before a broad smile took its place on her lips. This was pure magic, she was sure of it - Hadn't the Narnians been fighting a war just days ago? How had they done this? Where had they got the dresses from?

Because they were beautiful - Like a very big, real game of dress-up. Lucy grinned widely and eagerly reached in, finding a sweet summer dress with delightful little flowers sewn on. Summer! Laughter bubbled from her lips, as she turned, suddenly full of hope for this new life. Narnia! And Aslan was here, so how could anything go wrong? Winter was ended, and spring had come and gone. It was summer!

"Thank you ever so, Mayleaf!" She called as she whirled into the bathroom, pausing only a moment to marvel at the marble floor and polished mirrors. "Just wait a moment, and I'll be out in a tick! Have you been here long? Do you know where everyone else is? Oh dear, you've told me before, haven't you? Do you have a family? Do you live here? Are you..."

She trailed off and gasped, her eyes only for herself in the full-length, shining mirror edged with gold. Not that she'd ever been a particularly vain girl, for she had always been far more interested in running around than preening herself. And yet - she was _sure_ she'd never had such rosy cheeks in England, or shining eyes, or laugh creases in her face. Unable to help it, she smiled again, wondering what more Narnia held for her and everyone, and suddenly quite unable to wait.

"Let's go!" She cried as she flung the door open, dancing unashamed out into the sunlight. "Come, Mayleaf! Oh, and do try to answer my questions, if you can remmber any!" Laughing, she took off through the gilded doorway of the chamber, a flustered Squirrel hurrying after her, calling.

"Lucy! Lucy! Queen Lucy! Please wait! That's not the right door! Oh dear!"

The last exclamation came as she rounded a corner and crashed right into a maple Dryad, who gasped and stumbled back, a few leaves fluttering to the ground in her surprise. She immediately sank into a graceful curtsey, eyes wide.

"I am so sorry, my queen! Are you all right? Please, let me -"

"Oh, no, I'm fine!" Blushing, Lucy jumped quickly to her feet. "I should be apologising! I must learn to look where I'm going. _You_ are alright, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes, your majesty. Thank you," and the blushing maiden hurried away, clearly very embarassed at the incident. Lucy sighed a little, wishing she didn't inspire quite so much awe in the young spirit, and turned to Mayleaf, rather sheepishly.

"I'm sorry I ran," she said contritely, "but I was so excited... Do you think she's alright?"

"Oh yes, Q- Lucy." Mayleaf gave her a kind look. "Don't worry, my queen, those young Dryads are rather flighty, easily flustered. She will get over it soon enough. Now, shall we proceed the right way?"

"Of course!" Lucy smiled again, reassured. "This way?"

Mayleaf nodded, looking rather relieved that Lucy had finally found the right door, and followed her in.

Her brothers and sister sat at a glass table edged with gold, curlicues dancing their way down the table legs. It was a relatively small room, compared to the large dining hall she'd seen last night, but it had a cosy feel to it, despite the grandiose decor, that she loved.

"Good morning!"

At her cheery call her siblings looked up, and smiles touched their faces, though she saw the traces of worry there, and frowned a little. Hurrying forward, she slid into a chair beside Susan. "What were you discussing?"

Edmund frowned, Susan looked out of the window and Peter put his head in his hands.

Lucy blinked.

"Well," Peter finally said, after re-emerging from his impromptu cocoon, "Delegation of forces, placement of land, allocation of food, management of the castle, managment of the country in general..."

"Everything," Edmund broke in, with a dark glare at the world in general. Lucy's lips twitched.

"So what have you done so far?"

"Talk," Edmund announced. "A lot."

"Sort out temporary duties," Susan said at the same time.

"Made sure that the castle won't collapse on us at this very moment," was Peter's succint answer. Lucy sighed.

"I think we could use some help. Mayleaf?"

"Yes, Lu - my queen?"

"Would you fetch us..." Lucy's voice trailed off, and she looked to her siblings.

"Generals Stormcall and Harcus," Peter offered. "The Beavers, Mrs. Beaver seems pretty good at managing her house, she could always try her hand at a castle?"

"That's the army and the castle down," Susan mused. "Who handled food supplies for the battle?"

"Thorncast," Edmund supplied. "A Red Dwarf, I think. And a Dryad - what was her name - El-something..."

"Elenta, your majesties?" Mayleaf piped up, surprising everyone.

"Yes, that was it. Thank you, lady."

"We've already set the small Animals, the Hares, the Squirrels, the Birds, to work as messengers," Susan explained as Mayleaf hurried off. Lucy nodded. "The maps are rather outdated - a hundred years has changed borders quite a bit - and the witch seems to have just helped herself to whatever land she wants. There are some inconsistencies, and some squatters..."

"...Except that when you've been squatting for a hundred years, Animals tend to view the place as theirs..."

"...That's true, and there may be problems with land allocation if it comes to that, what with families fighting over it. But it seems to be quite logical now, the Beavers by the river, the Squirrels, the Deer, some of the Birds in the forests - mostly to the West - the larger creatures tend to be more on the north side, the Centaurs and some of the Lions."

"But we can just leave them as they are, can't we?"

"Not quite, Lu, there are a great number just released from the witch's castle who are now homeless, and some whose old homes have been taken over by others. Then again many have been living in quite awful conditions - not at all like the Beavers, they were lucky - and we must find a way to clean up, but then they need to stay somewhere while rebuilding goes on..."

"We could open the castle to them," Lucy offered eagerly. "There're so many empty rooms, surely there's space for all of them?"

"That could work," Peter murmured thoughtfully. "Except for the larger animals, but I suppose the stables would work for the Centaurs and the Horses, and there are fields for the Lions and Tigers and all those..."

"And the castle itself could do with some repairs," Susan said.

"Well, they can clean their quarters as a sort of rent, and those who are able can work on repairs there, too," Peter suggested. "Although working with the lack of hands might be a problem."

"They'll find a way," Lucy inserted confidently, and they all smiled.

"Of course." Edmund grinned. "I'll get started on a plan for it. Good work, Lu." And he was gone, already muttering about inter-animal relations and who he should put next to who in order to maximise space usage. A smile flickered on Lucy's face - He was so very earnest!

"Ed's blossoming," Susan said, laughter in her voice, "though he wouldn't appreciate the word. He's always been clever, and now..."

"Now he has a chance to use it with a good cause," Peter completed easily, pride in his voice. "And you, Lu. Are you aware that you just solved the problem we've been breaking our brains over for almost the whole morning?"

"And without breakfast too," Lucy retorted. "Now, where could I get some food?"

His lips quirking, Peter called to a passing Bird for 'some breakfast for the Queen, if you please', and bless her, the immediate attention in the creature's eyes and the quick, purposeful flight to the kitchens, as if the request was an immeasurably important royal command. Peter sat there, looking slightly bewildered, and Lucy couldn't help but laugh.

All the hope in these Animals, in these her people - it was beautiful, it was inspiring, it was infectious. She couldn't quite see how they could so easily place their trust in them, four children from another world, but she was grateful for it, and perhaps - perhaps one day they could live up to it! It was a great dream, but perhaps...

One day - one day, hands and paws and talons would build this dream together, and Lucy knew they would be the better for it.

* * *

><p><em>My deepest apologies for the delay! I had some trouble with this chapter, and I still think the ending was quite awkward, but I decided to post it anyway. If anyone has any feedback, please feel free :)<em>


	4. Susan's Place

_The Early Days_

Susan lifted her skirts to climb the old, spiralling staircase, as she listened as intently as she could to the eager chatter of Mrs. Beaver, who had been delighted to be asked about what she dubbed "home-making" - Susan liked the sound of that, it at least sounded a whole lot more romantic than "house-keeping" - and was eagerly dispatching advice.

"You musn't try to do everything, Queen Susan, dear, for this is a big castle and you would wear yourself out immediately. Now, what I suggest is making up a few teams, one for cleaning, and one for scouting out possible dangerous areas, and one for repairing those areas. You should probably stay somewhere they will all be able to find you, for rest assured they will have plenty of questions - what is this, what is that, may we throw these away, you know - so you should be in a good place for receiving such requests... ah!"

Susan blinked, a little startled. They had emerged into an old room, all made of wood, the walls a plain white. It looked at first glance to be some sort of attic, but there were large glass windows, a little dusty, but no less magnificent for that, that let the sun in and bathed the whole room in light. In the middle of the room was a large oak table, with an elegant, cushioned chair, that Mrs. Beaver had evidently found somewhere.

"This is lovely, Mrs. Beaver! Thank you so much," and she settled herself with a smile, before turning to the eager Animals who'd followed her here. They were mostly mothers and older daughters, for the children had been set to work "cleaning" the courtyard after one accident too many, and the male small creatures were now mostly working as messengers.

"Now, we will need three teams..."

* * *

><p>"...And so, my queen, we quite honestly couldn't decide amongst ourselves, we're terribly sorry for wasting your time like this, but we were so afraid of throwing something of value away..."<p>

With an effort, Susan pulled her gaze away from the window and to the anxious-looking team of four before her. "Don't worry," she plastered as gracious a smile as she could muster onto her face. "Thank you for asking. Now, I think you should just keep those figurines to one side, where they won't bother you, but be careful not to break them."

"But it's a very small room, lady, do you think there's somewhere else to put them?"

Pushing an impending headache firmly away, Susan tried to think. "I'm so sorry, but remind me again, where is this room?"

"In the East Wing, my lady, on the second level."

"I see. There should be a nearby storeroom, should there not?" She fervently hoped there was, for the map outline of that Wing had slipped her mind long ago, and she was now relying on desperate guesses.

"Yes, my lady, I believe there is. Thank you, my queen."

She summoned a weak smile as they turned and left, and turned to the next group. "Yes?"

"Good afternoon, my queen, we come from the second state room in the West Wing, but we think there was an accident at some point, there are boards down and the ceiling seems to have caved in by quite a bit..."

"Have you checked with the room above this state room?"

"Nay, we were unsure of where to go."

Susan drew a deep breath. And stood up.

"I shall come with you to have a look at this," she announced calmly, trying to look as if she knew exactly what she was doing, for she was sure she would go mad if she had to stay in that room and listen to any more questions about places and things she had never seen in her life! Surely, a queen should know her castle?

"I am sorry," she continued, turning to the rest of the milling crowd, "I am called away on an... extremely important matter. Rhea," she turned to the gentle Sheep standing stoically at the door, "would you please fetch Mrs. Beaver and my sister? They will answer the rest of your questions. My apologies, ladies." Lucy would probably brandish her knife at her later for subjecting her to this room and all the requests that came with it, but she couldn't quite find it in her heart to bother now. She wanted to explore, to see, to get to know this place she would be ruling over, not stay stuck in a small room attempting to pretend she knew the answers to such questions!

They were threading through rather precarious looking stacks of chairs now, and she frowned at the sheer amount of dust - she just wanted to take a rag and wipe it off, but judging by the reactions of her subjects when she tried to help with a bit of sweeping, queens weren't supposed to do housework. She sighed, a little dejected despite herself, for the magic of renewal and release _had_ worn off, and now... Now, well, they had to clean up a castle, and then a country, and with a people who refused to let their sovereigns do the slightest bit of work!

Aslan said _have patience, _she reminded herself firmly, and _be strong._ Try to understand them, love them, teach them, learn from them. Well, she could do that, as long as they would let her _do_ something!

Ah, they had reached the room. She could see what they meant - the ceiling was sagging ominously, and there were a few stray planks lying around, clearly an attempt to board up the area. Pursing her lips, Susan walked closer, stopping immediately when something creaked, and peered at the ceiling. Above her she could hear voices, apparently oblivious to what was happening below. Yes, it was caving in, and - soon!

She spun and flew out of the room suddenly, ignoring the gasps of the Chipmunks who'd lead her here. Where was the stairs? To the right, to the right... yes, and she rushed up, throwing dignity to the winds, all her heart suddenly focused on one thing. That room was dangerous, and whoever was in there -

"Come out!" She flung the door open and looked in. Two Foxes and a Lynx looked up, surprised, from the bookshelf they were mending. "The floor below you is dangerous," she urged, "come out! It may cave at any - oh!"

As one Fox - why, he was only a kit! - took an alarmed step, the fragile balance disappeared, and the first floorboard snapped. She caught a glimpse of concrete crumbling to dust and shocked faces, and without a word, without a thought, strode in and shoved the Fox out. Snapping into action, the older Fox nipped at the stunned Lynx and they bounded out, just as the bookshelf began to shudder and the whole floor began to give way.

"Susan!"

And her little sister strode round the corner of the stairway, hands on her hips, gown dishevelled, hair flying out behind her, fixing her older sister with a severe look for about two seconds before she ran over and threw herself into Susan's arms.

"Do not," she ordered in a voice muffled by Susan's dress, "ever go running off to save people without me again. It's dangerous."

Susan's lips trembled, not quite sure what to do, but finally she let herself laugh, seeing as it was much better than crying like a foolish coward. It was just a room, dear heavens, why was she so shaken? "I won't, Lu," she promised. "Or I'll try not to. It's rather hard a promise to keep."

"My queens?"

They turned. The three Animals stood solemnly before them, arrayed in a curve and with serious expressions. The older fox spoke. "We would like to express our utmost gratitude, my lady queen, for your timely warning and valiant efforts in helping us to safety. We -"

"Derlius!" They all turned, to behold a motherly-looking, rather annoyed vixen loped into the now rather crowded corridor. "Oh, my queens! I'm so sorry! He ran off, silly boy, what were you thinking, child? What did the queens say? The repairs could be dangerous, and now see what you've done! My goodness! My queen, my apologies -"

"I didn't mean to!" Now the kit burst into the conversation, all wide eyes and frightened look. "I was just trying to help and I didn't know..."

"I'm terribly sorry, Mistress Linhier!" Now the older Fox interrupted, looking quite upset. "I thought he had permission, I had no idea..."

"Of course you didn't! He didn't tell you! Oh, child! That's why I always say, listen to your elders -"

"Excuse me!" Seeing the miserable expression of the kit, Susan broke in. "Thank you for your intervention, my good Fox, but there is no need. I was glad to be of assistance, and any effort given was given gladly." She straightened. "I am sure we all had the best of intentions, including Derlius," she cast him a kind look. "Now, my little gentleman, I will let your mother teach you a lesson as she sees fit, though please, my lady, he meant well. And you, sir..."

"Redcap," the older fox supplied.

"Master Redcap. I'm sure you meant to harm, but in the future please check if you have comrades who don't quite fit in. You, as well, master Lynx." They looked a little awed, and with a start Susan realised she'd stood straighter, lifting her head almost like... like a queen. She smiled a little awkwardly, not quite sure of what to say, and they all seemed to relax.

"We will, my queen," murmured the Fox and the Lynx. She nodded.

"You may go." She swept her glance to include Derlius and his mother, unable to hide a small smile at the little kit. "Thank you."

There was silence as they filed out, murmuring to each other softly, and Susan stood there, not quite sure what had just happened. Then an exuberant cry sounded from beside her, and Lucy flung her small arms about her sister, laughing. "Su! That was amazing! You handled it wonderfully, and they all _melted_ when you smiled. You looked like a real queen! Oh, not that you don't always. But especially!"

Susan shook her head, meeting Lucy's beaming smile hesitantly. "Not very much, Lu... I think I forgot myself for a while there. But I didn't do much!"

"Oh, Susan. You did, trust your little sister! They were all arguing their heads off, and then you just stepped in and made it right again. Su, it _was_ amazing!"

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything to say_ now_, which wasn't a very good omen for her future as a monarch. And yet.

"I suppose..." A smile lit her face suddenly. "Lu, we won't be queens who sit in rooms and wait for people to come to us while they do all the work, will we? We'll work with them, and for them, and be a part of them..."

"Of course - of course we will!" Lucy's voice was hesitant, but honest. "I wouldn't want a silly queen who sat around not doing anything helpful at all. I shouldn't think the Narnians would want one, either. You can do it, Su, I saw it, back there. I would want a queen like... like you." A little bashful suddenly, but absolutely faithful, and with a sudden laugh Susan hugged Lucy, every bit as tightly as Lucy had hugged her.

"I know, Lu, thank you. But..." She drew back, and looked into her sister's eyes. "For now, my Lu, maybe you are happier as a child than as a Queen?"

Lucy tensed, and looked down. A long silence followed, but Susan waited patiently, her arms still safely around Lucy.

"Maybe," she finally whispered, and for a second Susan saw the raw fear that had overtaken her as she flew up the stairs, convinced her sister was hurt. Too young.

"Lu," she said softly, and drew her sister close. "You can help Narnia just by being you, you know. They need hope like yours now, not just endless work and kings and queens ordering them about. For a while more, little sister, you must be a child, and bring hope to this weary land. Will you?"

"I will," Lucy said, and Susan believed her.

* * *

><p><em>A few notes:<em>

_I am planning the story in a structure that will hopefully go something like this: the first four chapters, this being the fourth, being labelled 'The Early Days', before any form of dates or recording was used. After this, the years will be number I, II, III and so forth, and each chapter will cover a season of each year._

_Secondly, updates will be quite sporadic, I fear, for life encroaches on fanfic endeavours rather too much for my liking! But thank you so much for all reviewers and readers, you never fail to encourage me. Please feel free to leave any feedback :)_


	5. Lucy's Sister

_Spring, Year I of the Golden Age_

It was a beautiful mild day, a precious and rare occasion now that summer - the first in a hundred years, and sometimes it seemed that everything in this first year would be greeted with unbridled excitement - was approaching. But the hold of spring had not faded yet, as evidenced by the sweet, cool breezes that greeted Lucy as she stepped out onto the balcony.

It had become a morning routine for her, the first thing she did once she rose. Greeting her land seemed only appropriate for a queen, and she found great pleasure in the morning sun on her face, and the visage of Narnia's rolling fields and hills, and far to the East, the telltale glisten of the sea.

The first plan drawn out by the new master housekeeper had put the four royals in their respective towers - North, South, East, West, facing the lands that Aslan had given into their keeping when He crowned them, but one night in the painfully isolated rooms had found all four congregated in Peter's room, sprawled ungracefully upon the High King's bed. Rather ironically, Lucy reflected with a soft laugh, Peter himself had been the last to come - for he, protector's heart that he had, had gone round the other three rooms late at night, and come back almost in a panic at finding them all empty - only to be greeted by the sight of his three younger siblings lounging on his bed, watching the door with amusement.

All the same, nobody laughed when Edmund woke, shaking and white-faced, with Peter's name gasping on his lips. Lucy had hung on to Susan's hand with all she had, her breath loud in her ears, as Peter clasped their brother to him, mouthing a word into his hair. _Aslan. _And, even later, as Ed and Susan slept on, dark hair mingling, Lucy alone had watched _Peter_ wake, eyes over-bright with a terrible, fierce sorrow in them, and she hid her face against him, throat aching. Her brother, she realised that night, had already learned to bear a nightmare silently.

After that night, they'd all taken up residence in Lucy's tower, two rooms side by side. General Harcus, a stone-faced, mechanically efficient soldier faun, had initially objected, arguing the ease with which any enemy invader would gain all four of them, but Stormcall, a tall, dark Centaur, had taken one look at their faces and waved them on. The next morning, Lucy found herself sequestered in a corner of the training grounds, learning Stormcall's five foolproof ways to slit someone's throat if they entered your room unauthorised.

Even now, though, she doubted her ability to do that - not the technicalities of it, which she had had drummed into her brain, but the will to do it. The clash of swords, far below, startled her, but she hurried to the edge to look, smiling to see the dark and golden figures wielding their weapons. Both her brothers had taken to swordplay with ridiculous devotion, swinging their swords every which way, but growing in strength and grace every day.

"Lu?"

She half-turned as Susan appeared on the balcony as well. The sisters often stood together to watch their brothers, and often Lucy caught a flash of almost desperate pain in Susan's face before she hid it. Fear, Lucy knew, for their brother's lives and souls, but somehow such things could not trouble her. They fought for the Lion and for their country, she knew, and being so led, never could stray.

Susan's fists were clenched, the slender fingers spasming, and Lucy suddenly wished with all her heart that her sister might see what she saw, and rest in that peace.

But that gift could not come from her, not now, for...

She sighed, not knowing why exactly she hesitated to speak. Susan had grown quieter since the day she'd saved those Animals, at least when they were alone. She did not discuss the myriad issues of castle settlement with Lucy, seeming to leave all troubles at the table, but her sleep was not deep, and her heart not at peace. She was endlessly and relentlessly capable, handling all disputes and problems with aplomb and a sweet smile, but... Lucy could not define what worried her, but it did.

"Come on, Su, I'm starving!" She danced away, into the room, tugging open the wardrobe, and was relieved to see Susan follow her, a smile slipping onto her lips. She never would tire of Narnian dresses, she thought every morning, for they were marvelously made, light and strong, marrying convenience and comfort in the most wonderful way. The dresses were perfectly beautiful, enough to satisfy the tastes of any young girl, but they did not restrict movement as pretty dresses did back in the Other Place; in a Narnian summer dress, Lucy could run and jump and dance, and return hardly the worse for wear.

"The pink or the blue?" Susan's voice was troubled, more so than a simple choice of dress ought to warrant, and Lucy longed to reach for her, but she kept her hand by her side, mindful of the decorum her sister seemed so enamoured of. She studied Susan out of the corner of her eye as her hand ruffled across the two gowns, her thoughts swirling uncertainly.

It was, she knew, most unbecoming and the furthest thing from queenly, but as the days progressed she found herself often thinking their brothers with a touch of envy. They were growing closer and closer, as they studied and trained and fought and learned together, and often now Peter would just tilt his head Edmund's way, a quicksilver look, and they would both laugh at some communication their sisters could not penetrate. She tried not to, but she wished-

"Lu, are you alright?"

"Oh- yes!" She flushed slightly, feeling off-balance and awkward as her thoughts stuttered to a halt. "The... blue, I think. You look so nice in blue, Su, your hair is lovelier every day." She smiled wistfully. She would have been lying to have said that she had not ever envied her sister's poise and beauty; Susan seemed to have slipped into castle ways and royal airs as if she'd been born to it. Lucy, on the other hand, was a child still and a child first, and although she did not particularly want to grow up, she did want to win some respect, some worth.

But mostly, she realised as she ducked into their outchamber to change, she just wanted... She didn't even know what she wanted, exactly. She wanted the comfort of a hand in hers. She wanted to be strong and small at the same time, to grow enough to be able to contribute meaningfully and yet not too much, that she would forget the wonder of it all. She wanted- she wanted Susan to look at her the way Peter looked at Ed now, like an equal, a fellow ruler, a strong right arm. She wanted her sister, not the Queen.

"Lucy..."

A sleeve tumbled down her arm as she lost her grip on it, shamed by her own thoughts. She felt small and ugly and selfish, caught in Susan's sapphire gaze. She shook her head in answer to the silent question, and turned away, struggling to button.

Suddenly a cool hand was on her fumbling fingers, and with a gentle movement, Susan did up the last hook. She closed her eyes, feeling clumsier than ever. Susan's hand lingered on her shoulder, hovering beside her cheek. She stared at her toes.

Suddenly the hand was gone, and a thud sounded in the room. Startled, Lucy finally looked to her side, to see her elegant sister queen slumped on the floor, back against the wall. She gaped.

Susan seemed to have caught her fascination with toes, for she, too, was looking blankly at them. Timidly, feeling as if she was in a dream, Lucy slid down beside her.

"I'm sorry." Lucy almost jumped when Susan finally spoke, her voice quieter than she'd ever heard.

"What- whatever for?"

Susan made a half-aborted gesture, opened her mouth, and closed it. Lucy had never seen her sister so inarticulate. The silence stretched on, and suddenly she couldn't bear it.

"How about for not ever talking?"

Susan started. "I- what?"

"I don't know what else you think you have to be sorry for, Su, but it probably isn't your fault. Look, I don't- I mean I don't mean- Oh, dear, I'm all jumbled." She dared a glance at Susan. "I just want us to talk when we're by ourselves, too," she ended softly. "Not just... for business. And even then you don't talk to me, you talk to Peter and all the other heads. Su, I'm a child, but I can help, and I want to."

"Oh, Lu, I know, I just..." Susan stretched our her hands, staring at them. "I suppose I'm just trying to be too grown up again," she admitted, shoulders falling. "It's just easier, you know- acting all poised and high-and-mighty, so people will listen, and respect me. When I don't really know what's going on at all."

Lucy stared at her sister in shock. Of all things, she hadn't expected to hear this.

"But you do know what you're doing! You're so elegant and sure and..." she trailed off when Susan shook her head. "And it's not _that, _Su, I'm not upset that you're grown-up, I know you're better than me at being royal, but-"

"Lucy Pevensie, don't you ever think that!" Lucy broke off, and gaped. Susan turned to face her fully, clasping her hands in hers. "It's not true, Lu. I'm so sorry. I thought you wouldn't want to worry over all this, it's such a burden to place on you, I just wanted to let you be a child, have space and time and, and that day you looked so scared I would have done anything, Lu, to keep you from ever looking like that again."

Lucy blinked, mind reeling.

"...And Aslan brought us here to be kings and queens, some prophecy-fulfillers, heroes, and I don't know how to be that, Lu, I've been trying- and Aslan said I could start with you-"

"Start with me?" Lucy asked, quite unable to think of anything more intelligent to say.

Susan seemed a little calmer, now, and she nodded, easing back down. "I'm no warrior, I know that now. The rest of you are made for this sort of thing, battle and adventure and all that, but I could never fight a war. So He said I could- well, I could just look after you three, and let you protect Narnia, with sword and shield, and I would look after you. I suppose I was trying to do that- protect you- from this business, but I shouldn't have, I see that now."

Lucy felt her entire being suddenly brightening, her spirits rising. Susan was protecting her. Protecting her- not ignoring her because she thought her incapable, or weak, or didn't want anything to do with her.

Unable to control her desire to hug Susan, she flung herself on her older sister, barely stopping herself from laughing out loud. She felt Susan tense, then suddenly her body relaxed, and answering arms folded her into an embrace. She leaned against her sister's shoulder, suddenly perfectly content.

"Aslan didn't bring us here to pretend to be other people, I think," she mumbled into Susan's dress. "Or even to be our future selves. He brought _us, _Su, children, and not particularly good ones either. But it'll all work out in the end. You'll see."

Susan's arm tightened around her.

"I'll hold you to that, Queen Lucy," she said softly. But Lucy heard the promise in her words, and smiled.

* * *

><p><em>My deepest apologies for my long absence, but I am back now, and I fully intend to write more! I've just recently rediscovered many beautiful pieces of fanfiction, and I have to pay tribute to them here - without such giants before me, I would never have started writing in the first place. <em>

_If I did not manage to reply your review in the past, I am very, very sorry, it's important to me that every reviewer is thanked, but for the life of me I don't know if I replied or not, so just take this as a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to drop a word for me!_


	6. Susan's Words

_Summer, Year I of the Golden Age_

Susan was stuck.

It was wholly embarrassing and quite unfit for a queen, but she was, and it was mostly her fault and just slightly her little sister's. She crept to the edge of the rock again, looking over in the hope that it might have grown a little shorter or the waters rose a little since last she looked, but to no avail. The outcropping was just half a mile southwest of the castle, but it lay hidden behind a sharp turn in the path, destroying all hope that a passerby might see her. She sighed, and sat back on her heels, wishing with all her heart that she had never come up with this idea in the first place.

It had just been a small gesture, she'd thought, a nice thought that would make Lucy happy. A smile came to her lips at the thought of her sister; opening herself to trust in Lucy, not just as innocent child but as steadfast confidante and sister queen, had opened them to a relationship she'd thought lost long ago, a hazy memory of the time when they were both too young to particularly care who was older and who younger, two little girls running around a house playing... but that companionship had faded over time, until they were sisters in name only, loved but not truly trusted and known. But now she found herself constantly caught up in astonishment at the brilliance of her sister's suggestions, the simple faith of her heart.

Which, she thought with a sigh, was how she'd ended up here. Lucy had been wanting some kelp from these high rocks for days, eager to offer them to the playful, enigmatic Mer-people (who were quite able to dance and sing at their parties but quite unable to hold conversations of more than a single syllable) in the hopes of eliciting conversation. Sometimes Susan thought Lucy would not rest till she had made friends with every creature in this blessed land, and she was thankful for it.

She'd just wanted to give Lu a little help, get the kelp since Lu was so occupied with the new litter of kittens now tumbling all over the stables. They were the first litter born after the long winter, and portents of hope for all who saw them, not least the youngest queen, who had fallen head over heels in love upon setting eyes on them. Which was why Susan, not Lucy, had walked down to these rocks this sunny afternoon, thinking it a simple thing to pick some kelp and return- not even an errand in need of an escort.

She hadn't counted on the fragile stack slipping, knocked off balance by her light step, and the moment she'd made it to the outermost rock, the middle section had fallen through, crumbling into the sea. Now she was stuck- quite safe, she thought, for the outermost stone sat upon solid foundations, but unable to get off - strong swimmer she might be, but she did not know how deep the water below was, and she was not going to crack her head on the seabed from an ill-advised dive. At least it wasn't raining.

She let out a soft groan. She was in no great danger, she knew, but the long, uncertain wait was wearing on her. Would anyone notice she was gone? But with the many duties the four now shouldered, it was common that they would not know one another's exact schedules, and often the first time they could all meet together in certainty was the evening meal. She and Lucy were often together during the day, it was true, but over the past week Lucy had been playing with the kittens while drafting a plan for accommodating the rapidly expanding population - all the spring babies were growing, and space seemed to always be running out - while Susan was stuck in the library laboriously researching Narnian education (her siblings had groaned in concert when she asked if Narnia had a dictionary, but they all acknowledged the importance of knowledge). In fact, it was too much dust and old texts that had driven her out into the sunshine on this ill-begotten quest in the first place, and now it seemed no one would miss her until evening.

The thought made her sigh again, before she sat up straight, firmly shaking her head. No indeed, she was Queen Susan of Cair Paravel and she was certainly not going to stay stuck on a rock barely a stone's throw from aforementioned castle!

But what was she to do? Calling out had not worked, for the path was not well travelled, and few would frequent it at the height of summer's heat. She rubbed sweat from her eyes and frowned, eyes falling onto the kelp she had managed to gather. A thought formed, and she almost laughed at her own foolishness.

Kelp was treasured among the Mer-people precisely because it grew well on high rocks, which they could not reach from the water. But drawn by the promise of it, they often swam around the areas, and though they need not break the surface, they might indeed be beneath it. All she needed... was to call them.

She had called to the road, but not to the waters, and now she laid on her front, head just sticking out over the edge.

"Good Mer-people!"

Silence reigned for a while, but then a telltale bubble rose to the surface, and she smiled.

"Your queen calls you forth!"

Barely had the words left her mouth when the waters parted, revealing three identical, laughing faces. They were young, she noted, and pretty, their hair streaming behind them.

She opened her mouth, then paused, and considered. Here, perhaps, was as chance to speak with these strange people, and learn more of them. "What are your names?"

A stream of bubbling noises ensued, their own language unable to withstand air. She sighed. This was the reason for the deeply limited conversations - either they marshalled their efforts, getting out one word at a time, or the humans ducked underwater to hear, able only to catch phrases before they came up for air. And yet...

She pursed her lips. And pointed.

The rightmost Mermaid looked startled for a moment, the laughter fading.

"You first," Susan announced. "Then you. Then you." She swung round to the others. "Just- imitate the noises, one at a time, all right? Please try." It was a strange idea, but a solution had to be found. It wasn't just Lucy's friendliness being thwarted - treaties of the seas needed to formed as well, and it was difficult enough to find Fish who were willing to come to the surface. They had hoped for Mer-people to be their go-betweens, even unto the deep seas, but unless they themselves could communicate well, it would not work.

The young Mermaids exchanged looks, evidently bewildered by this command, but nodded.

"El..." The rightmost mermaid pointed at herself, then trailed off, elbowing the next.

"Sa..."

"Ya..."

"Elsaia?" Susan tried, fervently hoping she wasn't mispronouncing too badly. A shock ran through the three, then the right one- Elsaia! - leapt clear out of the water, laughing in delight. A disbelieving smile burst across Susan's face.

Beaming, too, the Mermaids pressed closer. Eager now, the second one's name - Pearl - was a little harder, if only because they couldn't tell if it was one syllable or not, and Susan tried 'Purr', 'Peer' and 'Pale' before she got it. Practiced now, the third's was easy - Shae - and the three were clearly delighted with this new idea, and positively overflowing with things to say. They were extraordinarily synchronised, in mind and body, Susan thought, as she watched them rippling back and forth, thoughts flowing from one to the other as easily as water. No other Species could have done this - but the Mer-people, in being one with the waves, were one with each other as well, and they were very able to speak their thoughts together.

"What does our queen command?" The question came easier than she'd have thought, and their voices sounded almost like water, Susan thought, rushing against the rocks. But she hesitated over this.

"Fetch someone from the beach east of here," she decided finally. "Tell them I am... well... unable to get off this rock, and to please send a Gryphon, if they can."

The three ducked beneath the waters, murmuring, and she wondered if they had gone for a moment, when they surfaced again, smiling and laughing as always.

"Does the queen trust her people?" they called, or sang, as the waters lapped the shores. "Will she let them bear her hence?"

The strange rhythm of their voices lulled Susan, but she shook herself. "I... Good Mermaids, I cannot leave this rock. It is too high - though dearly would I like to be carried by your waves."

Laughter greeted her statement, and when they replied, they sounded more than ever entities of the sea, extensions of the ocean. "The waters are the Lion's, as much as we, lady queen. It will not harm you, and our arms will catch you. May we bear you?"

Susan swallowed, hands grasping the rough rock. It seemed a terribly long way down. And the Mermaids were young, if enthusiastic. Did they know what they were doing? Was it true? Suppose she leapt and crushed them all!

"The song of the Sea quickens our blood, majesty!" She looked down, into three suddenly serious faces. "In these our waters, none shall come to harm if not by our leave." Their arms opened, outstretched, beckoning.

Susan took a deep breath. What was Narnia, but a long series of taking chances, and leaping on faith?

"Your queen trusts your word, given in the Lion's name!"

And she jumped.

For a split second she was hurtling through empty air, her heart thunderous, her stomach turning over. Then, inexplicably gently, she came to a stop- or not a complete stop, for she was still swaying slightly, moving with the waves. She slowly relaxed, tension leeching from her body, and laughed incredulously. She wasn't even wet. Three strong pairs of arms bore her up, and she could hear laughter from below her.

So it was that in the first year after the long winter, at the height of summer, activities near the East Coast of Cair Paravel were brought to a sudden halt, all eyes on the seas as her Majesty the Queen Susan arrived, gliding serenely atop the waters, not a hair out of place.

* * *

><p><em>This discovery, of course, sparked a new and lasting friendship between the Mer-people and the Royals, and Queen Susan was established as the favourite of the ocean's children. I just wanted to end this chapter with the image of everyone on the beach stopping to gape at Susan arriving in state, though!<em>


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